


The Doll Maker

by Okobogee



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Angst, Bad Ending, Character Death, Dolls, Fucked Up, Heavy Angst, Horror, M/M, Macabre, Mental Breakdown, Mental Institutions, Mild Gore, No Smut, One Shot, Short, Supernatural Elements, Vague Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 02:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11887815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okobogee/pseuds/Okobogee
Summary: Seungcheol and Jihoon are happily married, until one day, Seungcheol comes home from work and finds Jihoon dead.Unable to deal with the grief of losing the love of his life Seungcheol turns to his hobby, doll-making.





	The Doll Maker

**Author's Note:**

> Hello carats.  
> This is my first work! You can find me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/okobogee_666). Please come say hi! I promise I’m much nicer than my body of work :D
> 
> Before you begin, I'd like to warn you. This is not a happy fic and this is probably not a very nice fic to read. If you're at all squeamish, do not read.  
> If you don't want death, do not read.  
> If you want angst or hurt with any kind of comfort or happiness in between, do not read this fic. 
> 
> I tried to tag all the relevant things but if I missed a tag, do let me know.
> 
> Thanks to [ Tree ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Havokftw/pseuds/Havokftw) and [ Lee ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vultuers/pseuds/vultuers) for being my sounding boards, and helping me flesh out this idea into a full-fledged fic.

Seungcheol wakes up to the sound of his alarm at 6a.m, like he always does. His husband, Jihoon, buries his head under a pillow and grumbles "do you really have to wake up at 6 a.m on Saturdays?!", like he always does.  
While Jihoon nestles deeper into their bed, Seungcheol gets up and changes into his running gear.

  
Back when him and Jihoon had first started dating seriously enough for them to sleep over at each other's places, Seungcheol had tried to drag Jihoon with him on his morning runs but he quickly learned that if one wants to keep their head, the only reason Jihoon should be woken up for was a fresh cup of coffee.

Now, after multiple years of married life, they have settled into an easy routine. It's nice. Domestic. Seungcheol gets up at the crack of dawn for his morning run and makes Jihoon a fresh pot of coffee when he gets back. They eat breakfast together, making light conversation.

 

"Hey I'm gonna go work on my dolls a bit before work, can you handle the dishes?"

"Sure, no problem. What time does your shift end again?"

"Uhh around 8 so I won't be home until 9. I know you lose track of time easily when you're working on your music but can you _please_ promise me you'll try to eat something? You can't live off of coffee alone, jellybean."

Jihoon's face melts into a gentle smile, gets on his tippy toes and kisses Seungcheol gently. 

"I promise I'll eat something."

 

✂

 

As Seungcheol steps into their garage and breathes in the comforting smell of resin, paint and sawdust, he recalls the first time he told Jihoon about his hobby. They had been dating for a few months then, but Seungcheol was head over heels and falling in deeper every time he set his eyes on the smaller man.

_They were cuddling on Seungcheol's couch after gorging themselves on Chinese take out, the TV was on but the movie they had been watching was now serving as background noise as Jihoon carded his hands through Seungcheol's then blonde hair.  
_

 

_"Hey Jihoon? Remember when I first brought you here and told you not to go into the guest bedroom?"  
_

_"I do and as a matter of fact, I vividly recall thinking about 50 Shades Of Garbage and whether you had a secret BDSM dungeon."  
_

 

_"Well I uh, I really,_ _**really** _ _like you and I think it's time I show you what's in there."_

_"Wh- Okay. I mean, are you sure?"_

_"Yeah, I'm sure."_

_Seungcheol got up, clasping Jihoon's hand gently, gentler than usual, as if he was scared of hurting him. Jihoon trailed after him, perplexed by his boyfriend's furrowed brows._

_"So... it's not uh.... It's not a BDSM dungeon. But, it's kind of weird and- and- I uh if you think it's like, too weird or something I'll totally understand and I'm uh I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry uh I guess I'll. Open the door now."_

_Jihoon was now thoroughly, completely, confused. He had never, ever seen Choi Seungcheol this nervous. As a matter of fact, he'd always thought nervous was a word Seungcheol just didn't have in his vocabulary._  
  
_Seungcheol set his hand on the door handle and drew in a breath, as if to steady himself. He opened the door and stepped into the dark room. The light flickered on slowly, revealing a cramped room with shelves filled with paint tins and... dolls. Rows upon rows of dolls. They ranged from small, crude, blocky woodden ones to bigger, more realistic dolls. In the middle of the room sat a worker's bench of some kind with a small desk light and one of those mounted magnifying glasses on it._

_"Well. I certainly wasn't expecting this." Jihoon chuckled. "Are you a collector of some kind or...?" he trailed off, finally moving his gaze to Seungcheol.  
_

_"No, I mean, kind of I guess? I uh, I made these."_

 

_A pregnant silence followed, and Jihoon moved his gaze once again over the countless dolls._

  
  
_"Okay so, let me get this straight.... your hobby.... is making these creepy-ass dolls that look like they'll wake up in the middle of the night and kill everyone?"  
_

_"They're not_ _**that** _ _creepy!"  
_

_"Cheol... they're fucking creepy! There's a reason so many horror movies about dolls exist and that's because dolls are fuckin demonic"  
_

_"Uh so..... does that mean you don't wanna like, continue seeing me?"  
_

_"What?! Why would you think that?"  
_

_"Well you said that my dolls are fucking creepy?"  
_

_"I mean, they **are** really creepy but as long as they stay in a separate room and I don't have to feel them staring at me while we have sex, I'm okay with it."_

_"You're sure?"_

_"I'm sure."_

_"You're not afraid of me?"_

_"Afraid of you? Cheol, you're literally the least intimidating person in the whole world. You help kittens out of trees, you help old people cross the road, you're scared of thunder!! Puppies and baby pandas are scarier than you!"_

✂

 _  
_ “Hoonie? Could we get takeout today?”

 

His voice echoes in the silent house. Seungcheol brushes it off. Jihoon's probably wearing those big, noise cancelling headphones of his that make him look impossibly endearing.

 

Seungcheol places his backpack on the kitchen chair and eyes the pink post-it note on their fridge with consideration; numbers to both their favourite Chinese restaurant and pizza place written in black ink.

 

“Jihoon?” he calls out again and pads towards the other’s workroom. The door is open but no one is inside; the table is clear of clutter, the computer shut off, headphones neatly in their place.

 

Puzzled, he makes his way to the living room.

 

For some reason, Seungcheol suddenly remembers reading that most deaths happen in the safety of your own home. He knows it to be true but he doesn’t expect to stumble upon that fact so intimately.

 

He feels a guilty pang in his chest, for his first thought is tache noire and how rigor mortis starts from the jaw. He remembers his teen years, browsing through dark web and reading up on anything and everything macabre he could find.

 

Then, the panic settles in.

 

“Hoonie?” His voice is scratchy as he makes his way to his husband; his gradually cooling husband, with the muscles in his jaw stiff, his open eyes patched with tache noire, hands neatly on his lap. He's sitting on the couch like it's a normal day, as if he's watching TV. But the TV's off and Jihoon's head is lolling down, towards his chest.

 

Seungcheol feels sick. He takes Jihoon’s hand in his; not quite the same as the room temperature, yet. Seungcheol's hands are clammy and shaking, Jihoon’s eyes stare into infinity.

 

He runs to the bathroom.

 

He doesn’t exit the bathroom for another few hours; he can’t stop sobbing, he can't face his husband's corpse. His tongue feels like paper, the acidic aftertaste of vomit lingers no matter how many times he rinses his mouth. He's hugging his knees to his chest. And as the hours tick by, his brain plays tricks on him, he's certain he can hear Jihoon's bare feet tapping agains their hardwood floors. He's certain his little jellybean is humming yet another new song he came up with.

 

When Seungcheol finally abandons the safety of their bathroom, the same morbid scene welcomes him. He didn’t _really_ think it would change, but a small part of him hoped this would all be a sick dream that he could wake up from.

 

Jihoon’s body is still there, muscles contracting one by one.

 

Seungcheol slumps down next to him and weeps. It's a guttural, unhuman sound. The sound of heartbreak.

 

✂

 

Somewhere between shuddering breaths he realizes that there's something he can do after all. He vaguely recalls something from his teen years, when he was still interested in taxidermy.

 

So, naturally, he boots up his computer and opens up the servers he has only used a few times in the past ten years or so. Going through legal channels would arouse suspicions and take too much time.

 

Back then, tor was the way to go. And tor it is, now as well.

 

He types the address from memory, even though he's not sure if anyone visits the forums anymore; first comment made in ’95, the latest comment ten years later.

 

Seungcheol knows he only has a little over twelve hours left. Twelve whole hours to learn everything there is to learn about his most ambitious project yet; twelve hours to pour over the theory of undoing what can't be undone.

 

It’s more than enough, he decides and gets to reading.

✂

Seungcheol has now been awake for a little over 24 hours. He forgoes his morning run and calls his boss.  
  
"Hey Jeonghan. I'm sorry I'm calling you so early but... I have a family emergency and I don't know how long it's gonna take to settle it. I know this is way too sudden and if it's not doable then I totally understand but if I could take some time off of work, maybe use up my vacation days, I'd really appreciate it. I can even work more shifts once I come back to work. I'll work overtime and you don't have to pay me for i-"

 

"Woah woah woah woah, Seungcheol, breathe. Of course I'll let you take some time off to deal with whatever you need to deal with. I've been trying to get you to use your vacation days, anyways. You're a valuable employee but you taking some time off won't make the company topple over."  
  
"Thank you so much, Jeonghan. I'll let you get back to sleep now"  
  
"Alright then. Take care, Seungcheol."

 

✂

Doll-making was Seungcheol's way to de-stress. As a physically active guy, he'd tried all kinds of things from boxing to meditating, but nothing seemed to help calm his mind like focusing on the details of a doll did. And to drown out his sorrow, Seungcheol turned to doll-making as well.

 

He started to work on his most ambitious piece of work yet; his newest doll was completely unlike others in every possible way. Seungcheol had never worked on anything that required this much finesse. The materials he is using were completely foreign to him and the doll was bigger than anything he'd built before. He was constantly checking the instructions he found online, afraid he'd mess it up somehow. He could **not** let this one fail.  
  
✂

  
When Seungcheol finally returns to work, he's a shadow of his former self. He's lost a lot of weight, and his rumpled shirt looks too big on him. There are bags under his eyes, his hair is greasy and there's a weird, sour smell sticking to him. His co-workers try to engage him, hoping that somewhere under that melancholy shell is the exhuberant, jokester of a man they all knew and loved. Seungcheol turns down every invite to social events and eventually, he stops going to the break room completely. He eats at his desk, he doesn't reply to greetings, he never looks people in the eye.  
  
Until one day, three months later. He strides into their office with a box of donuts under one arm, shirt neatly ironed and stain free, smiling from ear to ear. Gone are the bags under his eyes, his hair is styled and it even looks like he's gained back some of the weight he lost.  
He loudly wishes good morning, continues into the break room, makes a pot of coffee and shares in on the office gossip.  
Everyone's a little bit stunned and wary at first, but after a week of Seungcheol being back to normal, they start to forget that there was a period of time when he was anything but his sunny self.

 

One morning Seungcheol announces that it's his and Jihoon's anniversary soon, and that they'd love to have everyone over for dinner. One of his coworkers, Eunji, remarks that it's been ages since they've seen Jihoon. No-one notices, but for a second, Seungcheol's smile slips.

 

✂  


'Oh I'm so glad you all could make it. I hope you're hungry — Jihoon's been slaving away in the kitchen all day, he's been aching to cook for more than two for a while now" Seungcheol says, smiling as he opens the door.

His coworkers pile into their foyer and while everyone's busy stripping of their coats and slipping on house slippers, Seungcheol scurries towards the dining room ahead of his guests. His guests follow him at a leisurely pace, engaged in light conversation, taking in the house they haven't seen in a year now. Once they round the corner though, they all freeze in their tracks.

Seungcheol stands at the back end of the dining room with his hand at the small of Jihoon's back, keeping him upright. And Jihoon...is not Jihoon anymore. His murky glass eyes, stare ahead seeing nothing. His fair skin is glossy, even paler than usual with an unnatural shade of pink dusting his cheeks. His feet are dangling limply, toes slightly touching the floorboards, knees bent at weird angles.

His mouth opens, into an unnatural shape with a clack. Donghyun notices something glinting inside Jihoon's mouth and with a start, he realizes there are small hinges _inside_ of his mouth.  
"Oh it's so nice to see you all again, I've been trying to get Cheol out of his little funk and socializing again for so long", announces Jihoon with a voice that's almost identically his, but somehow not _quite_ right.  
Donghyun is the first to speak up.  


"Seungcheol what **_is_** this?!" he asks carefully.

"What do you mean?" Seungcheol pouts.

"Where's Jihoon?"

"I'm right here!" comes the same, eerie almost Jihoon-like voice.

"No, that's not.... That's...not Jihoon? Seungcheol... tell me that's not Jihoon."

"Donghyun that's not funny."

"I'm not joking, Seungcheol."

"Why are you being so rude to Jihoon?"

"Oh god, I think I'm gonna puke" Eunji says, right before she runs out of the dining room, into the foyer and out of the house. She retches violently, vomit splattering onto the red house slippers she's still wearing. Sanghoon runs out after her, with his phone already glued to his ear.  
  
"Yes, we uh... I think we need the police. I think our friend murdered his husband."  
  
Sanghoon wraps an arm around Eunji, who's shaking violently. They wait for the police to come and when they do, Sanghoon just points towards the open door. Not sure of what to expect, the police officers draw their weapons.  


"Hello? Hello? This is the police."

"In the dining room!" comes Donghyun's voice from the direction of the dining room.

The police enter into the dining room and find Seungcheol kneeling on the floor, weeping softly and carding his hands through Jihoon's hair. The dummy's limbs are sprawled out on the floor, all tangled up and with the sleeves of Jihoon's oversized sweatshirt riding up, they see the fine stitching and the discoloration of skin around the doll-like ball joints.  
Donghyun is impossibly pale, warily looking on.  
The police officers lower their weapons.

 

"Oh god..... is that... what I think it is?" the younger one of the pair asks softly.

 

"Oh! I'm so glad you came! Officers, this man is harassing my husband. He's been saying all kinds of nasty things about my lil jellybean here. Will you please escort him out of the house?" Seungcheol pleads, looking up at them with impossibly round eyes.

 

"Oh fuck me this is.... this is so messed up" says the younger of the two again, laughing lightly.

 

"Sir, I'm going to need you to let go of the dum- your uh... husband? And come with me."

  
Seungcheol's attention is back on Jihoon now, he's kissing his lifeless husband's forehead and murmuring reassurances into the unhearing ears.

"Sir? You need to listen to me. Let go of your husband and come with me", the veteran officer states, now a bit louder. His young partner is slowly becoming hysterical, lifting his weapon a bit higher, aiming it at Seungcheol.

"Uh listen, Officer Kim why don't you go outside with Mr...?"

"Kang Donghyun"

"Why don't you go outside with Mr. Kang and take his statement?"

"But what if he attacks you?! Don't you need back up?!"

"Listen son, with the way that man is weeping, I'm doubting he'll do anything to me. While you're out there, can you radio in to the station and make sure they get a psych there? I have a feeling this one's a few noodles short of a naengmyeon."

Officer Kim leaves with Donghyun and the senior officer holsters his gun.

"Son, what's your name?"

"My name? S-Seungcheol... why?"

"Listen Seungcheol, we're gonna have to take you to the station. You can come willingly or we can cuff you and drag you there."

"I don't understand why I need to come but if that'll help, then sure."

"Alright, son. I'll escort you to the foyer and let you put on your shoes and your coat and then we'll go."

Seungcheol gets up, still hugging Jihoon to his chest.

"You're gonna need to give him to me, son"

"What? No! **_No!_** He's mine! He's _**mine!**_ I saved him! I **_saved_** him! You can't take him from me..... Please don't take him from me I can't lose him. He's all I have. "

"Woah, okay, easy. Just... no funny business and we'll let you keep him."  
"Okay."

 

The police officers put Seungcheol in the backseat of their patrol car, and watch in morbid curiosity as Seungcheol puts a seatbelt on Jihoon and then on himself.

Seungcheol holds Jihoon's hand and murmurs to him for the whole ride to the station.  
At the station, they ask Seungcheol about what happened to Jihoon, how he killed him and why.  
Seungcheol insists he would never, ever hurt his little jellybean. Tells them how Jihoon is the love of his life, how he'd die before he'd let anything bad happen to him.  
They try to separate him from his husband puppet, but Seungcheol gets so agitated that they have to taze him. Seungcheol is taken to an institute for the criminally insane, and Jihoon is taken to the forensic lab.  
  
Throughout the time Jihoon is being examined, Seungcheol is beside himself. On one occasion, he bangs on the door of his cell for so long and so hard that he sustains multiple small fractures to his hands. His hands are bandaged, and this time, he kicks at the door. Finally they administer a sedative and tie him down onto his bed.  
Once the sedative wears off, Seungcheol screams for Jihoon for so long that his voice goes out. Once his voice returns, he commences screaming. This cycle repeats over the course of a week or two, and finally, the executive of the ward decides to give Jihoon back to him.  
Seungcheol is pacified.  
  
Days pass with Seungcheol back in his little bubble, back in a world where his husband never died. Back in their comfortable routine. Seungcheol goes for runs in the mornings, Jihoon sleeps in.

 

Seungcheol is in love.

 

✂

It's been 2 years since Seungcheol was incarcerated - or, 2 years since him and Jihoon moved into their new apartment, as Seungcheol would put it.

"It's smaller than our house, but me and jellybean don't need much. As long as we have each other, we'll be fine", Seungcheol explained to Jeonghan during the one and only time he came to visit.

 

The nurses on his ward are accustomed to hearing two distinctly different voices coming from Seungcheol's room, so when nurse Jeon peeks in through the little window on Seungcheol's door, she isn't expecting to see Seungcheol curled up in the far corner of the room, hands over his ears, sobbing quietly while **_something else_ ** is talking to him.

 


End file.
